


Fractured Infinity

by Asgardian_Centaur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardian_Centaur/pseuds/Asgardian_Centaur
Summary: A series of hypothetical  scenarios all stemming from one point: the moment when Sigyn felt Loki’s death. Six Infinity Stones, six possibilities. Three sad endings, three happy endings.(This is what happens when I have a bunch of feelings and ideas after seeing Infinity War but can’t settle on any of them.)





	1. Part I (Soul): Undying Fidelity

**Author's Note:**

> Part I Summary: After Loki faked his death multiple times, a bit of magic was supposed to keep him and Sigyn connected. Perhaps it worked a little too well.

Part I: Soul

Undying Fidelity

 

The attack had been brutal, and the aftermath equally devastating. Half of her people had been killed, and the remaining Asgardians were packed into an escape vessel. Sigyn was restless in her corner of the ship. She wanted to climb out of her skin and crawl up the walls. Her heart hammered in her chest and her breaths came quick and shallow. Everything was too sharp, too loud: the rumbling and whirling of the ship’s engine, the whispering and crying from the rest of her people, the Valkyrie giving orders and taking command of the ship. Somewhere, Sigyn knew that she should be helping; she had been a queen of sorts after all. But every time she inhaled her chest felt tight and the words wouldn’t come. Outside the tiny window, the _Statesman_ grew smaller and smaller. Thor, Heimdall, Banner, and Loki were still on that ship. Loki, who should be here, who had promised that he was right behind her before he ordered Valkyrie to restrain her on the escape ship. “ _I’m sorry, my darling, but I can’t risk anything happening to you.”_

A chill passed over her like icy needles under her skin. The too bright, too sharp surroundings on the escape ship faded and blurred. Shadows of the _Statesman_ flickered at the edges of her vision, all jagged edges and fading embers. _“Undying…fidelity.”_ Loki’s voice echoed in her head, shaking her bones.

“No. Nonononono.” White hot pain shot through her arm and Sigyn dropped to her knees. A shadow loomed over her, and the deep voice that followed seemed to shake the walls. The details of his face may have been lost to shadow, but she knew him: the monster Loki spoke of in hushed tones, always checking over his shoulder. Tears stung her eyes and burned their way down her cheeks. She promised him every Infinity Stone, every star, moon, and world if he would just let Loki go. And for a fleeting, hopeful moment, the pain stopped, and Sigyn thought he might have heard her.

Until the sensation of a hand closed around her throat.

Still, Sigyn pleaded, her voice straining as the grip tightened. Her words were little more than wisps, lost and dying as soon as they were given life. Her nails bit at her throat, scratching; if she tried hard enough, she could pry the hand from around her—and Loki’s—neck.

_“You will never be a god.”_

The edges of her vision darkened, and echoed voices swam around her. “Please,” she gasped. “Let…him go.”

There was a  sharp crack along along the vertebrae in her neck. And then it all stopped.

Air rushed back into her cavernous lungs. The muted world of the _Statesman_ shattered into the too bright escape vessel. Every part of her felt numb; a void blossomed where her heart should have been. Loki’s name was barely a whisper on her lips, but it left a tiny crack in her, one that fractured the way ice does when it starts to give under a great weight. With every hollow breath, the fractures spread and the realization closed in around her.

Loki was gone.

The last fracture gave under that realization, and as she felt herself shatter, a howling scream tore free from her throat.


	2. Part II (Power): Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II Summary: Driven by grief and rage, Sigyn joins the battle in Wakanda. Like most flames, her wrath will eventually burn out.

Part II: Power

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust 

 

It was the magic Thor saw first. A familiar flash of gold flew past his head and impacted with the creature not more than six feet away from where he stood. It howled and screamed and clawed at its eyes before a dagger embedded itself in the creature’s forehead. Thor spun and scanned the battlefield. There was no sign of Valkyrie or any of the other Asgardians, but he did glimpse Sigyn charging into a group of creatures. Her magic whipped around her like a storm, slicing and burning her enemies. Her attacks were wild and unfocused, just as likely to hit an ally as much as an enemy.

“Sigyn!” He called to her before grabbing her dagger out of the creature’s head and rushing to her side. If she heard him, she made no acknowledgement of it. He arrived just as Sigyn tore another dagger from a creature’s throat. Her hands were coated in blue-black blood and her chest armor bore a splattering of the same color. “What are you doing? It’s not safe here!”

This time she looked at him, and Thor’s blood felt like ice in his veins. Her molten gold irises burned through him, and he could almost see the magic coursing through her veins underneath her skin. She  _ knew _ . Through whatever bond she and Loki had shared, Sigyn knew his brother was gone.

“Vengeance,” she snarled through blood stained teeth. Her voice reverberated in his bones and scraped against his nerves. Sigyn was hemorrhaging magic and it was making her unstable.

“Sigyn, please don’t do this. He wouldn’t…” The air crackled and sparked around her as she advanced on him, teeth bared and fresh tears in her eyes.

“Kill the one who took him from us. And stay out of my way, brother.”

And Thor did, until his aim missed the mark and with a snap the entire universe changed.

Something felt wrong, like the ground had shifted and the air felt thick and heavy the way it does right before a storm. Footsteps shuffled beside him; Sigyn could barely keep herself standing. Her eyes were dull, tired, and magic no longer swirled around her. Her magic was spent, and it might take a lifetime to get back.

“We were supposed to avenge him,” she rasped, her voice little more than wind.

“I’m sorry, sister.” A broken sob escaped her throat, her knees threatened to buckle, and Thor placed an arm around her waist to help keep her up. “Come on, we need to get you out of here.”

Sigyn didn’t move. Her gaze was fixed on some point in the distance. Tears slid down her cheeks and her bottom lip quivered. “Loki…”

There was nothing but death and destruction where she was looking, and Thor feared that her grief had shattered her mind. She twisted free and stumbled forward, her arm outstretched towards an illusion only she could see. Thor grabbed her arm—she needed help and he had to get her to safety—but his hand passed through her arm as it turned to dust. Sigyn didn’t notice. She kept repeating Loki’s name as her body turned to ash and drifted on the wind.


	3. Part III (Reality): Revenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanos didn't expect to receive a visitor once his work was done. Especially not the Trickster's widow.

Part III (Reality)

Revenant

 

Dawn peaked over the horizon, bathing the sky and earth in a golden light. Thanos sat in front of his farm, admiring the shining brilliance of it all. _“I will watch the sunrise on a grateful universe.”_ And a glorious sunrise it was. A golden dawn to begin a golden age.

His peace, though, did not last long. He was plagued by strange dreams and a feeling of unease throughout the day. There were times he could have sworn he’d see a pair of eyes staring at him from the dark. But whenever he would go out to investigate, there was nothing there.

One morning, a strange woman appeared in front of his farm. She was corpse pale, with dark blonde hair that hung in limp strands. Her clothing was torn and dirty--maybe burned. What little armor she wore was damaged, yet dull bits of gold shone through the grime. But two features stood out. Her eyes were a sharp light blue that had an unnatural glow to them. Her throat was a ruin; deep scratches created dark rivers down her throat, and smaller scratches marred her jaw. She stared at him in absolute silence, and her unsettling gaze bore into him with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“Who are you?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he pushed further. “Why are you here?” He wondered if the damage to her throat had rendered her unable to speak.

When she finally spoke, her voice was stronger than he would have thought. “I am a revenant, here on behalf of one who cannot be.”

“There are billions of those, you’ll have to be more specific.” He was in no mood for her riddles. “I’ll ask again, who are you?”

The woman took a shuddering breath and stood straighter, her eyes meeting his. “I am Sigyn of Asgard.  You killed my husband.”

This was disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. He had met a hoard of vengeful spouses, children, and parents who could not see the larger picture, who could not separate their pain from what was good for the rest of the universe. “Is it vengeance you seek, then?”

“It is.”

Misguided, as so many of them were. “I, too, have lost someone in all of this. But your pain, our pain...it is a little thing. It is one drop compared to what the universe has suffered.”

“Do not compare yourself to me.” She pulled a knife from her belt. “You have no idea what I have suffered.”

“You’re right. But balancing the universe had a cost, and no one person is more important than the survival of all life.”

“He was to me.”

This, too, he had seen before. There was no reasoning with the grief-mad. She had come here looking for a fight, but he did not relish such a thought. His work was done and he wanted to rest. “This will not end well for you, and it would be a shame for you to die after surviving the loss of your people and half the universe. Go back to your people, mourn your husband and be grateful that you have now been spared three times.”

“And who are you to tell me to be grateful after you murdered my husband?”

“Call it what you want, I did what needed to be done.” This conversation had grown tedious. “Go, while I’m still feeling merciful.”

Sigyn charged at him with a feral screech. She was fast, and ran straight towards him. This too was familiar. He had seen people’s grief overrule their senses and lead them to attack blindly, as though their rage alone would give them strength. Sigyn was no different. Her attack was clearly broadcast; she was aiming for his chest.   _Perhaps it is not vengeance she longs for but death_. When she was in striking distance, he reached out to grab her. He still did not wish to fight her, but perhaps a small amount of pain would change her mind.

His hand passed through nothing, and Sigyn dissolved into golden light.

“What--” Thanos caught the movement in the corner of his eye at the last moment, a flash of gold to his left and slightly behind him. He dodged but the dagger still embedded itself in the back of his shoulder. A good hit, but also a mistake. Sigyn had placed herself in his reach and left herself open. He caught  her by the wrist and flung her away before yanking the dagger out and tossing it aside.

He turned the dagger over in his hand. It was the same dagger he had stopped inches from his throat. Sigyn scrambled to her feet with a snarl. Gone was the wretch he’d seen earlier. Now she had a helm with golden horns.  Her dingy armor was golden in the morning light. A green cape billowed behind her. There was still something fierce and unnatural about her eyes, and her neck still bore scratch marks, faded as they were.

The pieces clicked. “You are Loki’s wife.” When they had found Loki, Ebony Maw had pulled so much information from him: a mother he adored, a father he would always be a disappointment to, a brother he loved and hated in equal measure, and an unnamed woman Loki managed to keep from them even under the Maw’s expert work. Thanos had wondered who such a woman might be, but he had let it go once they had Loki’s cooperation. Now, Thanos regretted not pushing the matter further. He touched the wound on his shoulder. It wasn’t as deep as he had feared, but she had still landed a solid hit.

“At least you’re more competent than your husband.”

“Is that flattery? Because it won’t stop me from avenging him.”

He sighed. “It’s a shame. Misguided as you are, I might have found your quest honorable had it been for anyone other than him. Loki was weak. I tasked him with bringing me the Tessaract, I even gave him an army and an additional Infinity Stone, and he still failed. For this, I had to break his neck.” Her hand came up to touch the marks on her throat, and he understood a little more.  She was a fool to bind herself in such a way to one such as Loki.

“And that somehow makes it more justified? You tortured him, made him do your dirty work, and then killed him. You’re not a savior, you’re a butcher.”

“His failure cost me years and resources. He had to pay for that. Perhaps next time you should choose a better husband.”

Thanos shouldn’t have been surprised that she would throw another dagger at him, but it was a surprise when the one dagger split into several more. No matter. If the girl was fond of tricks, he could provide those. He closed his fist, and the Reality stone turned the daggers, four in all, into birds that flew off into the trees. Sigyn conjured a short sword and charged at him. Like her daggers, she split into multiple copies. He shook his head and used the Reality stone to turn the ground soft and muddy. Her feet caught in the mud and she stumbled when she was in striking distance. Or really, the real her stumbled while her illusions kept going long enough for him to tell them apart. Thanos closed what little gap still remained between them, gripped her sword arm with one arm and her jaw with the other, forcing her to look up at him.

There was magic behind her eyes, in her veins, all the way down to the tips of her fingers. Thanos gave her jaw a slight squeeze to make sure it stayed there. “I see so much of him in you. The cape, the helmet, the armor, but it’s so much more than these trappings you shroud yourself in. The way you fight, your tricks and deception. And like him, you are selfish and single-minded. He only saw a throne, and still you only see him.” She struggled in his grasp, so he gave her arm a twist. She cried out, but she did stop struggling when they both heard something pop. “You are the echo of a dead man.” He shoved her to the ground again. “And I don’t have the patience to deal with ghosts.”

Sigyn pushed herself to her feet. Her knees shook and she seemed less stable than before, but she still held herself upright. “I..am Sigyn of Asgard. My husband was Loki Odinson, the rightful king of Asgard and Jotunheim, and god of mischief.”

“Asgard is gone, Jotunheim is a wasteland. You are queen of nothing and your husband was a coward. All your clever tricks are for nothing.”

“When I felt you kill him,” She touched the marks on her neck again. “I swore I would have my vengeance. I swore that I would end you.”

“Gods break easily, girl. You will find that I do not.” He closed his fist and let the Reality stone work. A thousand scenarios, a thousand different ways their battles could play out. All her tricks, all her magic, would never be enough. Whether the fight was quick or drawn out, no matter how close she may get to killing him, she would always lose. Every vision ended with her death.

Her hands had mud or blood or a mixture of both that left a streak reminiscent of war paint across her cheek as she brushed her tears away. Sigyn stood defiant, staring him down with rage filled eyes. But even as she drew another dagger, her hand trembled.

“Tell me,” He closed his gauntleted fist again, the stones glowing in the morning light.  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The outcome was left open ended because, to paraphrase Thanos, now reality can be whatever you want. Does she live and kick the ever loving shit out of Thanos? Does she die and join Loki? That's up to you.
> 
> Also this is like..the third version I wrote and the only one where I was satisfied with out it ended.


	4. Part IV (Mind): Vox Dolore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After settling in New Asgard, Sigyn starts hearing Loki's voice in her head and thinks she's going mad

Part IV (Mind)

Vox Dolore 

 

_“Sigyn…”_

The mug slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. It managed not to break but the tea spilled around her feet. Loki’s voice was little more than wind in her ears, but she felt it in the cavernous void where her heart had been. Her hands were trembling, and her knees felt as though they would give out beneath her. Loki died six months ago, she reminded herself. This was just a trick of the mind. Perhaps she needed to leave the house more.

Sigyn shook her head against that voice. No, he was gone. She had felt it. And this time he wasn’t coming back. 

When the voice came again, Sigyn grabbed one of the beer bottles Thor had given her. Her hands shook so badly that she feared she would drop it, but she wrested the cap off and drank deeply. Only then was the voice finally quiet.

* * *

A gust of wind whipped up from the fjord, banging the window shutters against the house. One of the shutters came off its hinges and tilted to the side. Sigyn groaned and added this to her ever growing list of household maintenance. When she bought the cottage of an elderly man who was moving into the city with his family, there had been years of neglect she had to repair: a battered roof, drafty windows, creaking floors, and a dozen small leaks. Despite all the repairs, she had turned the cottage into a homestead. Below, the sounds of New Asgard drifted up from the fjord. 

Another breeze kicked up and Sigyn hugged her jacked around her shoulders as she took her laundry off the line and folded it into the basket. And with it, a voice echoing in her head, pleading.

“ _Darling…_ ”

She shuddered, from either the chill or the voice or both, and quickly put the rest of her laundry in the basket. It was too early to start hearing the voice and she had too much to do still.

As she looked up, she saw Valkyrie standing at path leading up to her house. Watching her. 

Five years had told her that this would end in an argument. They would circle each other, concern and pleasantries soon giving way to sharp insults, accusations, and defensiveness. Thor was at the epicenter of it all. Valkyrie wanted him to brush himself off and lead their people again. He might be willing to listen if it came from family. Sigyn understood that grief and guilt took time to heal, if they did at all. Pushing him would do no one any favors. And so round and round their conversations went. 

They stayed locked like that, staring at each other, playing out a verbal sparring practiced over five years. Until Valkyrie shook her head and walked back towards the town.

It was just as well. Sigyn didn’t have it in her for a fight, today.

The wind picked up again, this time carrying the deep knell of one of the town’s church bells. Sigyn quickly picked the remaining laundry off the line and tossed them into the basket. There was still too much she needed to do before tonight. 

* * *

The voice had been more active that afternoon, chattering away about something unknown that made little sense to her. She had gotten better at ignoring it if she kept busy during the day, but this had been different, almost non-stop. When she showed up at Thor’s, she was more than ready to drink herself into oblivion. 

Korg and Miek were already gone. Thor said little when she arrived and brought out two red plastic cups for them. The cups were a formality; they only drank from them for their first round. The rest of the night they would drink straight from the bottle. She poured Thor’s first and then her own before settling into her usual chair opposite the sofa. 

Thor spoke first this time, beginning their ritual with a few words in their ancient language. Sigyn repeated his words.

“To those we lost,” Thor said, staring into his drink. 

“To those left behind.” She answered.

“To our people.”

“To our friends.”

“To our family.”

“To our loved ones.”

_“We do not forget.”_ The last was spoken in unison, in their mother tongue, and Sigyn’s voice nearly broke on the last word. She could not forget so long as Loki’s voice swept through her mind like a winter storm.

They both drank deeply from that first cup. Thor seemed to finish in one swallow; Sigyn was still far less practiced at drinking and took longer to finish hers. 

“Your mead grows better with every batch, sister.” Thor said, wiping a little of the liquid from his beard.

What he meant was she made it stronger with every batch. She’d been trying to drown out the voice in her head ever since it started, and when Midgardian alcohol would no longer suffice she turned to making her own. She muttered a thank you.

For the first time that evening, Thor seemed to truly look at her. “You seem particularly off tonight.”

“I’m just tired. Nearly had a run in with Valkyrie. She stopped by and looked like she was going to start another argument, but must have thought better of it and left.”

“No doubt to try to convince you not to come here tonight. She had the same conversation with me earlier.” He drank deeply from the bottle. “She doesn’t understand. I _cannot_  be their king.”

“There’s not much of an Asgard left, and we work well with the people of Trondheim. Perhaps a king isn’t what we need. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.”

“See, you...you get it!” He said, smiling for the first time that night, breaking her heart just a little. She understood because they were the same. Broken relics of an age past. Lost. Mad in their own way. “But Valkyrie...she doesn’t get that I shouldn’t be leading them. Not after…”

Not after Wakanda. Thor had told her what had happened, the moment he should have killed Thanos instead of taking his revenge. Yet she could not blame him. To do so would have been hypocritical. Had she been in his place, she would have taken every ounce of vengeance she could. “It wasn’t your fault.”

If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it. Thor finished off his first mead bottle and popped open a second. “You know, I nearly brought you his head.” And like that, the subject had changed.

“Why would I want that?”

“I couldn’t bring Loki home, so I thought I would bring you the head of the man who killed him. Steve thought it would be morbid...so did everyone else, really.”

“It’s probably for the best that you didn’t.” She imagined Thanos’ head on a spike outside her garden to scare away crows, or shriveled and disfigured by dark magic. “I don’t want to know what I would have done to it.”

Loki’s voice crept back into her head. The mead made it sound fuzzy, like she was hearing him underwater. But it still shouldn’t have gotten through at all. That was the whole point of her drinking like this, of her making the mead stronger and stronger. She groaned and dropped her head in her hands. 

Thor set his bottle on a nearby table, stumbled over a hoodie discarded on the floor and his own drunkenness, and knelt in front of her. Without her even saying anything, he knew. “Is it the voice again?”

When she first started hearing Loki’s voice, she’d run to tell Thor, hoping that perhaps Loki had miraculously survived. They had all been so sure of his death when he fell from the Bifrost, and she had heard him call to her then. _“What if he’s still alive, Thor? What if this is another one of his tricks?”_ But even as she spoke the words, they both knew it wasn’t true. They had both witnessed Loki’s death, in a fashion, and they both knew he was gone. “I fear it’s getting worse.”

Thor patted her shoulder and held her bottle out to her. “Drink. That will keep it quiet.” Sigyn gulped down several mouthfuls, ignoring the burn in her throat. “It’s alright, I hear him too.”

“What?” Sigyn wiped a little of the mead away from her mouth. He had never mentioned that before. “Since when?”

“About a year ago. Every so often, I’ll hear him call me an idiot.”

“Are you sure it’s not just one of the kids in your video game?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe it’s just what I want to hear.”

“You want to hear him call you an idiot?”

Thor gazed beyond her, towards the night sky. That was rare these days. He could hardly look at the stars anymore without thinking of Loki, and Heimdall, and his people. His failure and his grief were written in the stars. “He may have been a pain in my ass, but underneath the insults and the fights, he was still my brother. I want him to call me an idiot because it means in some way he’s still here.” His gaze returned to hers. “And you hear him calling for you because it worked once before. We hear what we want to hear.”

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she didn’t bother wiping them away. “This is the third time I’ve been his widow. You’d think it’d get easier.”

“I’m sure it does for some.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “But we are not most people.”

The rest of the night was spent reminiscing on the old sofa, and when the mead ran dry they turned to the cheap beer Thor had brought from Tonsberg. Their conversation wandered, hovering around a topic until speaking of it became too painful and they moved to the next one. They spoke a little  of Loki, of Asgard, of the adventures he went on with the Avengers and of the years Loki spent ruling Asgard. Later, Thor handed her a controller to teach her the new game he and Korg were addicted to. It was the first time either of them had been willing to talk about the past few years. Most of their meetings were silent, or small talk about what was going on in New Asgard. It had been enough to know that they weren’t alone, and maybe they hoped that now they could try to find some closure. But Thor was right. They were not most people. Their grief and regret could not be shrugged off so easily. But at least tonight, their grief was a little less.

Thor was the first to pass out shortly before dawn. The sky was still dark, but there was a faint light on the horizon. Sigyn laid him on his side and pulled a blanket up to his shoulders. The bed in the other room was tempting. Her legs were unsteady, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. After every one of their meetings, Thor offered for her to stay. It was a kind gesture, but one they knew they wouldn’t follow through on. They could drink and enjoy each other’s company for an evening, but their shared grief would probably drown them.

Thor gave a loud snore and she patted his head. Loki had the gift for entering people’s minds, and she was certainly too drunk to try, but his guilt had been so evident all evening she felt she had to do something before she left. 

“Wasn’t your fault.” Her words were slurred. “Wasn’t your fault, Thor.”

Her legs wobbled and she stumbled down the front steps. The ground spun and she steadied herself against the side of the house as her stomach rolled.

“Rough night?” Valkyrie stood at the end of the walkway, her arms folded over her chest.

“ ‘M fine.” She wanted to go home, collapse on her bed, and sleep for as long as she could. Sigyn pushed herself off the wall and walked forward slowly, trying to look like she wasn’t about to fall over.

“Right. How many bottles did you drink?”

“Enough.” 

Her stomach heaved; she staggered over and knelt by the water’s edge. A few unpleasant coughs, and the contents of her stomach came back in a burning rush. Her arms shook, and for a moment Sigyn thought she would tumble into the fjord, and for an even briefer moment she welcomed it. Strong arms pulled her back and hoisted her to her feet. An arm around her waist kept her upright, but Sigyn twisted away. The motion was a mistake; her legs wobbled like a newborn foal’s and her head spun. But she remained standing, and that was a small victory.

“Getting piss drunk like this doesn’t work, you know.”

“Worked for me.” The words felt like molasses in her mouth. Valkyrie looked skeptical, which only irritated her more. “And what do you know about it?”

“Enough to know it won’t bring him back. And it won’t make him being gone any easier.” She scoffed and turned towards her house, but Valkyrie wasn’t done.

“He wouldn’t want you both to suffer like this.”

“Don’t,” she growled. “Don’t invoke his name to get what you want.”

“I know that he cared for Thor, and he must have loved you if he wanted me to make sure you were on the escape ship when it left.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She remembered him telling her to help get their people onto the ship, and in the chaos she hadn’t questioned it. But when the doors shut and she realized that Loki had left her behind, Valkyrie had to restrain her to stop her from going back.

“I could have helped them.”

“You would have been killed. Besides Loki...asked me to keep you on that ship.”

“What?”

“He said I needed to keep you alive, no matter what.”

Loki must have thought he was going to survive. She couldn’t imagine him knowingly leaving her alone in this world. It would be cruel, even for him.

_I should have died that night_. The ground felt like it swayed underneath her; she wanted to collapse onto the pavement, but she knew if she did she might not get up. “Well, I’m alive, for all the good it does me. So…great job.” She muttered something else about going home and passing out on her own bed.

To her relief, Valkyrie didn’t offer to help her get back home. Drunk as she was, Sigyn still had her pride. Her steps may have been careful and deliberate, and it may have taken her until the sun was almost completely over the horizon, but she was still standing when she made it back to the homestead.

* * *

Sigyn woke to pounding on her door. She had only made it as far as the living room sofa. Her head felt like it had been cleaved in two, and her mouth and throat were parched. She grabbed a bottle of water and finished it in one go before getting to her feet and staggering towards the door.

Thor still looked drunk, but he had put a shirt on. And a sweater. And sunglasses. But it was the fact that Thor was here at all that concerned her. She had almost always been the one to go to him. “Thor? What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to be gone for a few days.”

Sigyn tried to remember their conversation from last night, but much of it was fuzzy. She didn’t remember him saying he was leaving. “What are you talking about?”

“Rocket and Banner stopped by. They have beer on the ship. Oh, and they have some plan to bring everyone back, or something. I don’t know, it’s nonsense.”

Behind him, she could see Banner and Rocket standing a respectable distance away. Banner was also wearing a shirt, and glasses, and Sigyn wasn’t sure who she had been expecting when Thor talked about Rocket, but it wasn’t a raccoon. 

“Oh, I am still very drunk,” she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Thor still lingered in the doorway and didn’t say much. But even with the sunglasses, she knew he was looking at her. Waiting. _He’s waiting for permission to go_ , she realized. If she asked, Thor would stay behind, getting drunk and laughing about how ridiculous this plan was. She reached up and gently pulled his sunglasses down a bit to see his eyes. Buried deep was an ember of hope. If he stayed behind, he would go on as he always had, but he would regret not taking up the fight.

“Be safe, brother,” She said, clasping his arm and giving it a squeeze. Thor smiled and promised he’d be back soon.

Sigyn watched him go, telling herself she made the right choice. And she believed it too for a while, until she watched their ship lift into the sky and disappear on the horizon. It dawned on her that now she was truly alone. She had no real friends in town; Korg and Miek were friendly with her but she did not count them as friends, Valkyrie was...complicated, and many of the others she had known had died on that ship or turned to dust. Her homestead now felt terribly small and empty. 

As though it sensed her loneliness, the voice came back. Whether it meant to mock or soothe her, it didn’t matter; it’s words sent a spike of anguish through her.

_“Sigyn...I’m coming home._ ”

* * *

The house sitting on a hill on the furthest outskirts from town was completely dark, save for a faint, warm glow coming from one window. But an energy radiated off of it, starting with the fence that surrounded the property. It was an energy he knew well; a ward against intruders. He touched the one that was on the gate. To anyone else, the magic would be sharp, like touching a blade or a nail, but to him the magic was warm and familiar. It didn’t so much bend under his fingers but curled around them and lifted easily.

The small yard was full of such wards: a few on the stones on the walkway, along the posts in the fence around the garden, on each window. The strongest was on the door. He raised his hand to knock on the wooden surface, but then he paused. It seemed so...comical. Knocking on his wife’s door and waiting there like he was a young suitor. He touched the wards on the door. The magic warmed beneath his fingers and sent a tingle through his hand, but it too gave way. The door was abnormally quiet as it opened, and as it closed behind him.

Her house was smaller than he thought, though it clearly looked lived in. Books and other magical ephemera lay on a nearby bookshelf. Many of them he recognized. Sigyn must have smuggled them out of Asgard before Ragnarok. Glass bottles lined one of the countertops, and the kitchen table was a station for mead or wine making. Bunches of herbs hung upside down in the kitchen, drying. Dirty dishes lay soaking in the sink. 

Sigyn was curled up in a chair near the fireplace. Her gaze was fixed on the flames. A notebook lay open and forgotten in her lap. In her hand was a mug of warm liquid with steam rising from the surface.

“Sigyn?” He whispered. When she didn’t respond, he moved closer and said her name a little louder.

She flinched at the mention of her name. When she looked at him, here eyes welled with tears. “And now I’m seeing things.” She sounded so tired.

“What?”

“Feeling your death, hearing your voice, and now seeing you. Hell, I’m talking to you. I’m completely mad.”

He had expected that she might not believe her eyes at first. But the resignation in her voice sent a chill through him. “You’re not, my darling.” He knelt next to her, took the notebook from her lap and placed it on the side table. “This isn’t a hallucination, or a trick. I’m home.”

She shook her head and muttered something about seeing what she wanted to see. Then her gaze fell on the mug in her hand. “Not a hallucination, then. A dream. I must have fallen asleep in the chair.” She giggled. “I’ve added too much mugwort. Or valerian root.” She sniffed the tea. “Or maybe both.” She got up, took a final sip of the tea before putting the mug on the kitchen counter. 

“Sigyn,” He caught her in his arms when she head heading back towards the bedroom. “This isn’t a dream.”

She pressed herself into him and laid her head on his chest. “It feels like one.”

He wanted to make her look at him so he could explain everything. But she felt lax in his arms, and quite comfortable. Whatever tea she had been drinking must be working. And her thinking thinking this was a dream was easier to work with than thinking she had gone mad. He tipped her chin up and tenderly brushed his lips against hers. If she wanted this to be a dream, he would make sure it was a good one.

“Stay with me, Loki,” she whispered.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and enveloped her in his arms. “Always.”

* * *

Shortly thereafter, Loki had carried her back to her bedroom, laid her down on her bed and crawled in beside her while she drifted off to sleep. Rest would not come easily to him. His mind raced with what she had told him, trying to fit the pieces of her last five years together. She claimed she had heard his voice, but he did not remember trying to contact her in such a way. He had thought of her often, certainly, almost daily, hourly even, but in nothing more than longing and to keep his own sanity. And the calmness with which she had spoken of her own insanity troubled him.

Slowly as not to wake her, he disentangled himself from her and slid off the bed. Sigyn shuffled and murmured at the movement, but remained asleep.

Once he was back in the living room, Loki realized how sparsely furnished the home was. There was little of the flair that had adorned her rooms back at the palace. No trinkets, no decorations. Aside from keeping the home in good physical condition, nothing had been done to truly make this place feel like home. The only exception was the bookshelf filled with smuggled magical texts. But even they hadn’t been touched in years. A thin layer of dust covered the shelves. It seemed there was no place for magic in New Asgard.

The mead set up on the kitchen table, however, had been used, and recently. A few boxes were already filled with bottles. A ledger sat undisturbed on top of a sealed box. Loki smiled as he read over the figures. Sigyn had made a cozy business for herself and seemed to be making a profit. But his smile felt bittersweet. As proud as he was of her for finding some means of providing for herself, Sigyn had still been one of Asgard’s most powerful sorceresses, a handmaiden to his mother, and his own beloved queen. This all felt...wrong somehow. Even in Tonsberg she should have been more. He set the ledger on the countertop next to her mug. In a moment of curiosity, he picked it up and sniffed. It was tea, but the smell of herbs was almost overwhelming. 

He was about to return to her room when another notebook caught his eye: the one she had been looking through when he walked in. He picked it up and thumbed through the pages. It was clearly a recipe book, or a record of recipes she had experimented with. Each one was marked as either ‘to sell’ or ‘personal.’ The personal ones had different notes at the bottom which gave gave him pause.

  _-Voice still heard.-_

  _-Voice muffled, like underwater, even after several drinks.-_

  _-Voice was nearly silent, though took longer than expected.-_

  _-Voice was silent for several hours. Might have to tweak formula later but overall success.-_

Loki dropped the notebook on the floor. The mead, the strong tea laced with potent herbs, it all made sense now. She was numbing herself, a protection against this voice she heard. But there had to be something about the origin of the voice itself, and Loki refused to believe that Sigyn was going mad.

Sigyn was still sound asleep, practically curled up into herself. Waking her seemed cruel, and as long as she thought he was a hallucination, she might not tell him everything. But his only other option felt equally cruel, to force her to relive those memories so he could see them. As he stood over her, he wrestled with the two options. It would take time to coax some answers out of her, all the while watching her spiral further downward. Or he could risk hurting her further, but would know what happened and how to help her.

_She is strong, she won’t break that easily_ , he prayed as he sat beside her on the bed. He brushed some of her hair away from her face before resting his palm to her forehead; this may be...abrupt, but he would still be as gentle as possible.

“Forgive me, darling,” he whispered. “But if I’m going to help you, I need to know what happened to you.”

This particular kind of magic could be overly strong if not used with a delicate touch. With the softest push, he nudged his way into her mind. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for; a series of images flashed through his mind.

_Sigyn, alone on the escape vessel, on her knees and clawing at her throat. The scream that tore out of her that shook him to his core. Those trying to comfort her turning to ash. Choosing this cottage and withdrawing from everyone. Drunken nights with Thor spent in mourning. His voice whispering in her head. Words he remembered thinking but that somehow she heard._

Loki yanked his hand away, shaking. Sigyn stirred and made some unintelligible noise, but otherwise remained asleep. He touched his throat. The illusion he cast to distract Thanos had to be strong enough to be made corporeal, otherwise Thanos would see through the trick. Loki had expected to feel its repercussions—and he had—but Sigyn shouldn’t have felt anything.

He lowered his head in his hands, struggling to fight off wave after wave of guilt. He had done this to her. Even though it hadn’t been intentional, and he certainly didn’t know how he had done it, but he had broken her.

A soft gasp and the sensation of her scrambling back against the headboard made him look up. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her breaths were deep and trembling, like she was trying to calm herself down. For a brief moment, Loki thought of leaving. She was clearly traumatized by something he had done, and his continued presence could make it worse. But the thought repulsed him as soon as he thought it. He would not— _could not_ —leave her like this.

“Sigyn…” She shook her head frantically, as if to shake his voice out of it. “Darling, look at me. Please.”

“I’ve had this nightmare before. I wake up with you, but you’re not…” her voice caught on a whimper. “You’re a corpse.”

He shuddered, even more determined  now try to fix this mess. “Sigyn…” he said cautiously, and inched closer to her. He had an idea, but he didn’t want to startle her further. “I’m going to take your hand, ok?” She remained stiff, but let him take her hand in his. 

First, he guided her hand towards his face and cupped his cheek with her hand. She was tense, but her thumb tentatively brushed over the rough stubble on his cheek. He placed a kiss on her palm before guiding her hand lower, pressing it against his chest. His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest; surely she would feel it.

And she must have. Her eyes were still closed, but her face had relaxed, and she looked less like a deer about to bolt. 

“Do you feel that?” She nodded, trembling. “Corpses don’t have heart beats. Illusions don’t have heart beats. And they certainly can’t do this.” A small bit of magic enveloped their hands. Tendrils of green light and sparks danced along her skin, as eager to be back with her as he was. This was his last chance at getting her to believe he was real. Sigyn trusted their magic; he was certain that even if she couldn’t trust her other senses, she would trust this.

Slowly, her eyes opened, shining with unshed tears and reflected magic. “Loki?” Her voice trembled, but she seemed to believe it this time. “How? How are you alive?”

“I knew Thanos would never let me live, so I used a decoy and made my escape.”

“But I felt you die.”

The image of her clawing at her throat, and the soul shattering scream that followed, haunted him. The sensation of dying had been painful for him, but he had known it was coming. But for Sigyn, who had no idea what was going on...the thought made him feel ill. “I don’t know how that happened. It was an illusion; you shouldn’t have been able to feel anything.”

“And the voice I kept hearing? Was that really you this whole time?”

“Not intentionally. But I thought of you often, sometimes even ‘spoke’ to you. It kept me sane all these years.” He brushed away the tear that slid down her cheek. “Maybe in some way I hoped you could hear me.”

Her hands cupped his face as she searched his face. “This is real…” she whispered. It wasn’t a question but an affirmation, repeated over and over so that she might burn it into her mind. “This is real…”

She leaned forward and her lips met his, gently at first, as though she thought he would vanish if she pushed too hard. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer so that they were pressed together. She pulled back enough for him to touch her forehead to hers.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen to you.”

Her breath hitched, and the dam broke. She clung to his shirt, buried her face in his neck, and five years of grief poured out in broken sobs. Loki held her close and combed his fingers through his hair, breathing in her honey and juniper scent. “It’s alright, my darling. I’m home now.”

* * *

Dawn brought a soft, rosy light that flooded the bedroom. Sigyn watched the sun peek over the horizon, warming the sky. Her head rested on Loki’s chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing. He had fallen asleep first, but she couldn’t sleep at all. Every time she started to doze off, she would almost immediately jolt awake, afraid that this time, Loki would really be gone. But each time he was still there, warm beneath her touch (or as warm as he’d ever been), and resting peacefully. She thought she had woken him when he cuddled her closer, but he was still asleep and snoring softly. 

If this was truly real—and she was still having trouble believing it was—there would be so much they would need to go over. Years of it. Where Loki had been, why it took him so long to find her. She would have to explain everything about new Asgard and what had been going on with Thor. 

Loki threaded his fingers through her hair. “Go back to sleep, love,” he murmured.

Sigyn wasn’t sure if she would be able to, though exhaustion finally seemed to be settling in. As she nestled closer to Loki, she listened for the voice again. 

But all she heard as she drifted off to sleep was the soothing rhythm of Loki’s heartbeat.

 


End file.
